Into the Fire
by BrattyLittleAngel
Summary: Regina Dauphine knows pain and loss. Just as she begins to believe she has a handle on her life, she finds herself dragged into a war which has been brewing for decades. Now, she must deal with the knowledge that the French Quarter's myths and legends are real, while putting her faith in a vampire who has the ability to break her heart.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Due to a bit of a stall on two other stories, this has been something brewing in my head for ages. This takes place first season, but as with any AU, I will be taking liberties with cannon. Personally, I love the character of Elijah, and the proof that old school manners, and modern day can mix, plus he's easy on the eyes. This is an Elijah/OC fic, but I do adore watching him interact with Hayley.

~Prologue~

"Miss Dauphine?" With a deliberate clearing of the throat, the older gentle waited patiently as the young woman sitting on the opposite side of the desk refocused and came to from whatever nightmare she was currently caught in. He felt a momentary pang of irritation at the unusual position he was currently in, but quickly squashed it as the young woman snapped to and blushed over having drifted off.

"I'm so sorry." Deep blue eyes sent a silent plea to excuse her for her poor manners. "Maybe we should reschedule, when I'm not so -." Her words drifted off, and the older gentleman once again wished he could have told the young woman's Grandmother no.

"There's no apologies needed, you've just went through a great loss, and with the circumstances being what they are . . . I wish there was a way to give you additional time you need to – I wish I could say heal, but honestly, I know how close you were with your Grandmother. How about I outline what Imogene insisted on, and then make an appointment for a more in depth meeting."

Tucking a nearly black curl behind her ear, Regina Dauphine nodded silently.

"Now I should make note that Imogene changed her will just a few months ago." Watching as the young woman contemplated his words, he saw the moment something clicked inside her head. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yes." If it were even possible, she looked even more lost than she had when she'd entered the office. "My Mother happened."

"So, you won't be overly astonished your Grandmother left you essentially everything." Shifting through the paperwork on the desk, Mr. Bouchard located what he was looking for. "The property in the Quarter, her portion of Havenwoods Plantation – which I understand your older cousin Shawna runs – and a vast majority of her assets, once all debts have been cleared of course."

"I –." Clearly dazed, Regina shook her head, more long black curls escaping from her barrette. "That's way too much. I – My Mother will contest this."

"Undoubtfully." Mr. Bouchard replied blandly, as his eyes hardened as though he very much looked forward to it. "Now as to the property in the Quarter, it is the primary reason for this urgent meeting."

Regina frowned, clearly overwhelmed and near her breaking point. "What about the Tea Room? My home?"

"There's no need to stress, but there are some . . . strange stipulations attached."

"How so?"

Clearing his throat, Mr. Bouchard started to look uncomfortable as he appeared to be searching for the right words. "Does the name Elijah Mikaelson mean anything to you?"

"No." Looking baffled, Regina shook her head. "Should it."

Avoiding her question, the older man tapped his finger a few times. "What do you know of the history of the Tea Room?"

"My Great-Great-Great Grandmother Lucille defied her father, refused to marry and instead opened the Tea Room."

A gentle smile touched the older man's lips. "I was more like your Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Grandmother, and did you ever wonder how a woman, in the early nineteen hundreds, open a business on her own? Even in the city like New Orleans? After defying her parent's wishes?"

With only a slight shrug, Regina fidgeted. "Honestly, no. But when you put it that way, I suddenly feel stupid."

"Don't." Mr. Bouchard insisted. "My family's firm has been here just as long as yours, and during that time we've represented Lucille and her descendants. She had a silent partner, who helped with the purchase of the building which the Tea Room and subsequently your residence occupies. A contract was drawn, which detailed the partnership and the logistics of how it would be passed down upon the passing of either."

"I've never heard of any kind of partner." A slow frown pulled at Regina's lips. "How can that be?"

"Consider them a very silent partner." Pushing a folder across the desk, waiting until she hesitantly took it and with just a slight glance back, lowered her eyes to the paperwork inside.

"Is this even legal?"

"Unconventional, yes. But very legal, mostly because you must fully agree to these terms, today. If not, the property and business are turned over to Elijah Mikaelson."

Regina's eyes flew open, and this time when her cheeks pinkened it was out of shock. "You can't be serious."

"I know the paperwork contains enough legal jargon and mumble jumble, but if you were to read further I think you'll find the partnership ideal."

"How can it possibly be ideal? Some stranger could own my home, not to mention the business my family has built."

"Only if you do not agree to the terms." Mr. Bouchard tried to reason. "One percent of the Tea Room's annual profits, and the right to utilize the very top floor of the building should the need ever arise."

"Only one percent?" Dropping her eyes to the folder in her eyes, Regina shook her head. "That's barely anything. Why so little?"

"I wasn't there when the contract was drawn up, so I am unable to answer that very valid question." Chuckling, he watched as the young woman calmed herself down, though he could see there was another question on her mind.

"I assume the very top floor means the attic, which no one has been to in years . . . if ever. What does it mean by utilize it? Like a storage locker? He can't run a night club or anything up there . . . can he?"

"First I doubt he'd be able to obtain a license to do so, the French Quarter is rather stringent on matters like that, so I doubt he could run a bar out of the attic."

"But he could live in the attic if he wanted?"

"Technically, yes." Spreading out his hands, Mr. Bouchard shrugged. "But honestly, outside of the one percent, there has been very limited contact with the Mikaelson in possession of the partnership. Much less had them as a tenant."

"I'm just so confused. I would give this all up to have Meme back."

"I know you two were close, and she raised you as her own. Have the police determined if . . ."

"All they will say is they are considering a few leads." Pausing, Regina sighed. "I am beginning to think a few leads is code for 'we're doing our best to work as slowly as we can'."

"I am truly sorry, Imogene was a wonderful woman."

"Thank you." Lowering her gaze to her lap, Regina took a few minutes to think. "If Meme was able agree to this strange partnership, I have no reason not to."

"I knew you'd make the right decision."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes - Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews. Years ago, when the earth crusts were cooling and we used dinosaurs as transportation, I lived in Louisiana and got the chance to visit New Orleans several times. Though I was young, dumb and partook in some partying, the city was a dream. Now that I am older, not all that much more wiser, I wish I could return and have the chance to enjoy it from a different perspective. Again, this is AU, but will pull some from the show - which I do not own - to make it relevant.

 **Chapter One**

~~~Two months later~~~

"Did you hear?"

Gritting her teeth as she fixed Ms. Clare her usual, Regina silently prepared herself for what was most likely to be yet another scandalous story from one of Meme's oldest and dearest friends. It seemed since her passing, every one of her Grandmother's friends took it upon themselves to ensure they 'dropped' by on a daily basis, not just to ensure she was doing well, but to do their duty in spreading the local French Quarter gossip.

"Hear what?" Knowing Ms. Clare would stand there until she asked, she swallowed the slight laugh when the older woman nearly puffed up in excitement.

"There's been another death." The woman's words were nearly a whisper, as though she were telling her some sort of torrid secret she was only privy to.

As her words sunk in, Regina felt a chill run up her spine. While the city had never been known to be the safest place in the world, the last few months had been plagued with odd occurrences, unexplained deaths, and the unfortunate mess at St. Anne's church. "But that makes six this month."

Apparently not finished, Ms. Clare clutched her handbag close to her chest as she leaned back in. "You will never guess who."

Almost scared to ask, Regina placed a freshly baked scone on a delicate plate and nodded to one of the empty tables. Out of all of Meme's friends, she felt for Ms. Clare, even if she was an old gossip and had the tendency to be closed minded. The woman was a dying breed, who had a death grip on the past, while wishing desperately for the hands of time to reverse to days gone by. Setting the cup of chicory coffee and bake good down, she pulled out a seat for the older woman, before taking a seat herself.

"Please tell me it isn't anyone we know."

Some of the excitement slipped from Ms. Clare's face, as she quickly set a weathered hand upon Regina's in comfort. "How horrible of me darling. Here I am, gushing about the latest gossip, with no regard to how it would make you feel."

"Really it's alright." Hoping the words sounded sincere, Regina sent the older woman a brittle smile.

"I feel absolutely horrid."

Regina knew Ms. Clare would go on forever if she didn't put a stop to her apologies, and simply held up a hand to stop any further words. "Who was it this time."

Looking instantly relieved, which made Regina slightly suspicious, Ms. Clare sat up straight in her seat. "Franny Flournoy. You know, that Cajon who fancied herself to be some sort of voodoo priestess."

"Witch." Regina muttered, as she felt a bubble of anxiety grow inside her chest. For months now she'd had this horrible feeling of dread, and before Meme had died she'd shared her concern. Instead of reassuring her, Meme had absently muttered she'd felt it too. It'd been an odd conversation, if one could call their short exchange a conversation, and in the weeks preceding Meme's death it hadn't been the only one.

"Pish." Ms. Clare waved her hand. "Witch, voodoo priestess, same thing. Personally, I never really understood the fascination. Those fakes have ruined our city."

Biting her tongue, Regina knew many of the 'old school' locals, who's family roots ran deep, blamed the decline of the city on what they deemed to be the riffraff. It confused her, how these pillars of society couldn't see it was some of the so-called riffraff who added spice to New Orleans, and had for more than a century. It didn't matter if she believed or didn't believe in Voodoo or Witchcraft, a pocket of residents and many of the tourists did, and that's all that really mattered.

She would be a liar to say she supported how the Quarter had turned into an all year kegger, pushing out some of the city's southern charm of Balls, Cotillions and High Teas. There was something about the old traditions that called to her, and really wished the town had the capacity to comprehend that balance was dire for progression. Instead, it felt as though there was an ongoing battle between the past and the future, and neither side willing to give an inch.

Feeling the heavy gaze coming from Ms. Clare, Regina cleared her throat. "Do the police have any leads?"

Clearly enjoying being the one to bring fresh news, the older woman preened as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Nothing I know of, but if you ask me, it's either a serial killer, or the police are being very lax in their job."

"I doubt the police are turning a blind eye." Quick to dismiss the very thought of any foul play by those sworn to protect, Regina winced at the thought of there being some kind of psychotic running around the city killing at random. But even as the words slipped from her lips, there was a shade of doubt making her feel queasy.

"You are a sweet girl." The words and the way Ms. Clare had spoken them, made Regina feel like a simpleton, and fumed silently, reminding herself to respect her elder. But as Ms. Clare continued, the effort not to tell the old hag off was increasingly difficult. "But one day you will learn. Not everyone is as pure as you."

She doubted the older woman sitting across the small table would consider her to be such a sweet girl had she known the mischief she'd partaken in the Quarter over the years, but decided it wasn't worth her time to see how outraged the old bird would be. Knowing her patience was close to snapping, Regina smiled sweetly over at Ms. Clare. "Well it seems Ellie and I will need to be extra careful."

"Yes." A fake, brittle smile turned the woman's eyes hard. "How is your little friend?"

"Good. She's visiting her Grandmother for the weekend." Clenching her hands into fists on her lap, Regina wished to have the nerve to say something about the woman's blatant bigoted attitude. Not only was Ellie a typical Creole, with beautiful light colored coffee skin, she was also a proud Bi-sexual. Two things people like Ms. Clare silently tolerated. But even though they didn't speak their feelings out loud, their body language always gave them away. "I would be lost without her help."

Regina wasn't just saying this to get back at her Grandmother's old friend. Without Ellie's assistance, she would've lost her mind, not to mention her family's legacy. Her friend's natural buoyancy, and outspokenness balanced out her quiet and sometimes shy manner. At the same time, she kept Ellie from self-destructing when she got a little too buoyant and over the top.

A loud crash from behind the counter pulled Regina from her thoughts as one of her employees sent a silent apology. "As much as I hate to leave you Ms. Clare, I really should get back."

"Of course, my dear." Patting her hand, Ms. Clare shooed her away, and Regina was relieved for the excuse to escape before she told the woman exactly how she felt. Years ago, she'd asked Meme why she even bothered with little old biddies like Ms. Clare. In typical Meme fashion, she explained it was their obligation to show closed minded bigots that it was possible to live side by side with others who were different than they were. That by cutting off these people because of their beliefs, only pushed them to socialize inclusively within their own group, breeding only more hatred.

Regina thought there were several holes in Meme's theory, but also understood what she was saying.

Excusing herself again, Regina headed to the counter and back to the small kitchen in the back. Taking a few deep breaths, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought to clear her mind. When she felt she was able to control her unstable emotions, she gathered her hair up off her neck.

"She's gone." Megan, one of the shop's long term employees ducked her head into the kitchen, a knowing grin on her face.

"Thanks for the save." Sending a grateful smile back, Regina leaned against the butcher block table in the center of the kitchen.

"Sorry I had to break a few cups." Her smirk growing wider on the woman's face, Regina felt laughter bubble out. "But, you have another visitor, this one is much more handsome."

Intrigued, Regina moved to take a look out the door, and felt a smile play at her lips. Standing at the counter, stood one of New Orleans's finest. The very striking Officer Joshua Gaudet. One of the few officers who had humored her when she refused to accept Meme's death to be an accident.

Unlike many of their generation, Josh seemed to have found a way to hold on to old fashioned manners, while at the same time living in the modern world. He had a calm air about him that put her at ease, and due to this trait had him on the receiving end of many of her insomnia induced blathering sessions when he had the misfortune of stopping by to check in on her.

Though he didn't visit as often as he had, when he did stop by it always put a smile on Regina's face.

 **~~E~~**

Hurrying away from Saint Anne's, Elijah struggled against the urge to check in on Hayley to ensure himself of her safety. With the amount of time he had been temporarily disposed of, there was no telling what kind of mess his impetuous brother had placed the young woman in. Seeing how even to this day, over one thousand years later, he knew Klaus could create havoc and discontent in just a day's time. Heavens only knew what the troublemaker had accomplished in his absence. Without any doubt there would be an unfathomable amount of clean up in the wake of Klaus's actions, but there would be time for that later, right now he had more pressing matters at hand.

Dodging a group of loud drunken tourists, Elijah cut across the street and made his way to the older, better preserved portion of the Quarter. Even due to the dire circumstances for his arrive to New Orleans, he couldn't miss the changes to the city he helped to establish. Where it had never been a place of law, and even in it's infancy it drew some unique individuals, it still held a charm. Now, after nearly two centuries, there was no missing how the modern world had invaded, and not for the best.

So, it was a relief to see just a few blocks not infested by drunkards, deviants, and flashing neon signs. By some miracle - or if he were a guessing man, a very powerful witch – his destination gave him a feeling that he had indeed stepped back in time.

The streets were clean, void of any graffiti or litter. Here there was not a feeling of neglect. Instead, the cobble stone streets were lined by brick buildings with wrought iron balconies and brightly painted shutters. Every street corner still possessed oil burning lamps, and he could even smell the linger scents coming from the Farmer's Market from blocks away. As loathed as he was to admit it, this small oasis amid of the chaotic French Quarter was better maintained than it had been in his day.

Though the nostalgic feeling brought a slight smile to his lips, it didn't abate the feeling of impending doom.

Klaus had been played, and to be fair was most probably still being played at this very moment, by Sophie Deveraux. But until he had one bit of business sorted out, he needed to hold onto faith his brother hadn't done any irreversible damage, which would inevitably place Hayley and the child growing within her in any harm. What he had to do would put them at an advantage, and from the time he could only assume had passed while being kept a daggered prisoner of Marcel, they needed any advantage they could acquire.

It was with a heavy heart, he was calling in on an arrangement he had been determined never to utilize, unless it was absolutely necessary. With any luck, Imogene and her Granddaughter would be only slightly inconvenienced. Sending a silent prayer of thanks that Celeste had the foresight to provide him this secret safe haven, even though it had been the last gift she had been able to bestow him.

It had been decades since he'd last encountered Imogene, and though he had an undying respect for the woman, her daughter Melody on the other hand, was going to be an issue if she was still in the vicinity. He just hoped the Granddaughter, Riley or perhaps it was Regina, was more like the elder Dauphine. Because it would be with great regret that he would have to make a choice between his family and the Dauphines.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I am having a blast writing this story and want to thank everyone who's given me such wonderful reviews. If at any time the story feels off, or has jumped the rails, please let me know.

* * *

"I feel bad." Watching in amazement as the handsome man poured way too much sugar into his to-go cup, Regina swallowed down a chuckle as he reached over for the canister of cream. No matter how many times she watched the attractive officer fix his coffee, she was amazed he hadn't crumbled to the floor into some sort of diabetic coma. "I've been meaning to stop by, but I've been swamped."

Any trace of humor bled from Regina, as guilt gnawed painfully at her stomach, knowing he'd been up to his eyeballs in unsolved deaths lately. "I heard about Franny."

A frown marred his strong features, as his eyes snapped up to meet hers and scrutinized her face for what seemed to be eternity, finally he cleared his throat and said. "Did you know her?"

"Sort of." Uneasiness washed over her nerves, making her skin feel suddenly tight and uncomfortable. Tucking a strand of raven black hair behind her ear, Regina fidgeted under his intense stare. "We went to school with each other, but didn't exactly travel in the same circle."

After another moment of painful silence, Josh gave her a knowing look and sighed. "Let me guess, she was one of those mean girls, who had no filter and made your school years hell."

"Not just my school years, she was one of those who just couldn't leave the social stigmas of High School in the past." It was the best way to say Franny had been an ubber bitch, who delighted in poking at other people's sore spots. Apparently, Franny had missed that day at witch school about receiving back what they threw out into the cosmos.

Wincing, Regina wondered if perhaps Franny had learned the hard way, Regina tried to clear her mind and focus on the man in front of her.

"Careful there Regina, or you'll find yourself on the suspect list." Josh teased, then laughed when Regina's eyes grew large in mock alarm. "I would be laughed out of a job if I ever considered you capable of causing someone harm, or in the very least, lynched for being responsible for threatening their caffeine source."

Regina frowned and eyed the man in front of her. "I suppose that's supposed to be some sort of compliment."

"Yes." With a charming smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts, Josh took a long drink of his sugary brew. "You Regina Dauphine, are one of the nicest, most mild tempered woman I have ever met."

Making a face, Regina sighed. She hated how everyone always came to the conclusion she was some timid meek mouse. "You do realize, no female ever made history by being nice." Regina muttered, remembering the words Meme and sometimes even her Mother, would say.

"Do you want to make history Miss Dauphine?" Intrigued, he placed his cup down on the counter, while leaning in and showing off his well-formed biceps.

"I -." His attention on her gave her a mixed feeling. It was intense, and made her feel at odds. A part of her was flattered, that a man as handsome as Josh would give her the time of day, while at the same time an ugly feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach. "I guess I never really cared enough to think about it."

"Never?"

"Nope." Laughing at his expression, Regina shrugged and grabbed a towel to wipe down the counter. "I suppose that makes me extremely dull to you."

"No, it makes you pleasantly unique in a town which thrives on the outlandish." Widening his eyes at the last of his words, he pushed away from the counter and stood up straight. "So, I suppose I've put off the real reason why I stopped by today."

Of course, there was an ulterior motive, he'd been missing for the last few weeks, and Regina felt foolish for thinking that maybe he'd come to see her. Girls like her, the quiet ones who didn't rock the boat, or were loud and boisterous just didn't gain the attention of men like Josh. Oh she knew with her long black curls and strange, dark blue eyes she was pretty. But pretty didn't stand a chance against those other girls.

Perking herself up, Regina sent him a smile. "What brought you to my door Officer Gaudet? Besides for a cup of sugar, cream, with a splash of coffee."

"There's a masked charity ball coming up." Looking suddenly shy, Josh cleared his throat. "I was hoping you'd attend with me . . . as my plus one." That oily, gut feeling stalled her for a moment, and Josh picked up on her hesitation. "It's this weekend, and I know its short notice, but I didn't even know until today if I could even go."

To her ears, his words sounded almost hallow, almost rehearsed, which was poor form of her, seeing Josh had never given her any indication of being anything but sincere. "What's the charity?"

"Some Girl's and Boy's group, or maybe an endangered insect." With a charming smile, he leaned in again. "So, what do you say Miss. Dauphine?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. For one thing, he was right, four days notice for a masked ball was absurd. But the puppy dog look he gave her, had Regina changing her mind. "You're lucky I'm a sucker for balls."

"So, that's a yes?" A wide grin, he wiggled his brows playfully at her.

"Yes." Regina snorted at his sudden playfulness.

Picking up his cup of now room temperature coffee, Josh saluted her. "I'll pick you up around nine then?"

Again with the mixed signals. Picking her up at nine was a little late for a nice dinner before, and Regina really wished Ellie was there to talk about this strange conversation. "See you then."

Watching him leave, torn between being relieved and confused, Regina picked up the clean towel and wiped up the mess Josh's concoction left. Her mind was a hundred miles away, so when she looked up to find a handsome and very well-dressed man sitting at one of the empty tables she found herself screaming out in shock and taking a few steps back.

"My apologies, it was not my intention to startle you." Remaining seated, the gentleman held up his hand, as though that action alone would calm her frazzled nerves.

"Where . . .?" With a wild look around the shop, Regina opened and closed her mouth a few times, but the jumbled up word blockage inside her head made it impossible to come up with something coherent to say.

"You were preoccupied, and I didn't wish to intrude." Lowering his hand slowly and setting it down regally upon the table, he paused as a blush stained her cheeks. Had she really been so distracted she hadn't seen the man enter the shop? "I'm looking for Imogene."

With her heart still pounding painfully in her chest, Regina felt a surge of humiliation when tears pooled in her eyes. "I – She's . . ."

"Are you alright?"' A frown turned his full lips down in a frown, as he half stood from the chair.

"Meme is dead." Forcing the words out, Regina watched as understanding washed over the stranger.

"When?" He demanded, as all gentleness evaporated, and instead a hard, cold expression filled his features. "How?"

At a loss to do anything but answer the man's questions, Regina took a healthy step back, putting some much-needed space between them. "Two months ago."

The man's lips pinched. "How?"

Unable to stop the tear from spilling down her cheek, Regina blinked a few times. "She – I found her at the bottom of the stairs, her -." Chocking down a stifled sob, Regina steeled herself. It wasn't like she hadn't been forced to explain Meme's death a countless number of times during the days following her passing. "She died immediately, or so I'm told . . . the fall broke her neck."

"How unfortunate." He murmured, clearly looking put out. "I suppose then my business is with your mother."

Moving across the room to clean up a few cups off a table, Regina watched the man from the corner of her eye as any previous hurt feelings melted away at the thought of the woman who gave birth to her. "I can honestly say, Melody is nowhere nearby. She couldn't even be bothered to show up for Meme's wake."

The man fell silent, and quite frankly, it freaked Regina out. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but the shop is closing. I can get you something to go."

This seemed to humor him, and he let out a dry chuckle. "I wish it were that simple. But it seems Miss. Reilly -." He paused when Regina's eyes narrowed suspiciously and she took a step back out of self-reservation. "I seem to be mucking this up Miss. . . ."

"Regina." Making her way behind the counter, Regina was slightly comforted to have the counter serve as a barrier.

"Yes, Regina." Nodding slowly, he tilted his head to the side. "I must apologize for my poor manners, I am recovering from an injury, and feel our first meeting is suffering from it. I am Elijah Mikaelson."

"The silent partner." Regina sighed, as she dropped the towel down and turned around to inspect the man who was now standing on the other side of the counter. Blinking a few times, she tried to reason how he'd made it across the room unnoticed.

Brushing off his sudden movement across the small room, Regina couldn't help but admire the man's elegant and polished appearance. It was refreshing to see a man who could carry off a well-tailored suit in an age where men seemed to think a pair of skinny jeans were all the rage.

"Ah good, Mr. Bouchard is earning his bloated paycheck." Elijah replied crisply. "What else did he tell you."

"Not much really." Regina said. "That you are invited to use the attic, and get one percent of the shop's annual income. I was supposed to schedule a follow up meeting with him, but there just hasn't been time." What she didn't say, was how she'd been putting off the inevitable. Over the last two months she'd tried several times to make an appointment with the elderly man, only to come up with a handful of reasons as to why she just couldn't find the energy to confront what would be another emotionally draining meeting.

Elijah considered the woman and her words, and wished he had the time to be more delicate about this. Imogene deserved the respect, and the young woman before him needed time to heal. "I am sorry to hear about Imogene, she was a wonderful woman."

The look of mistrust couldn't be missed, proof that he had made a mess of this introduction. If his siblings could see him now, they would be delighted to see he was behaving in a less than gentleman like manner. "Can we please start over?" Holding out a hand, he waited patiently until the young woman edged forward and placed her tiny hand in his. "Elijah Mikaelson."

"Regina Dauphine." He noted the quick way she pulled her hand out of his grasp, and retreated. Though her actions were timid, the bright, intelligent gleam in her eyes told him there was a fire inside the woman, and he would be wise not to underestimate her in the future.

"My condolences for Imogene's passing."

"Thank you." Her reply was immediate, from years of good breading, but she still harbored a healthy amount of mistrust toward him.

"I wish my arrival came during better times, and it is not my wish to inconvenience you, but it is imperative I acquire a few of my possessions from the third floor."

Her brows shot up to her hairline in shock. "There's stuff up in the attic? Your stuff?"

'Yes." Shrugging, his facial expression gave nothing away, while inside he was relieved to find his quarters on the third floor to be a mystery to the young woman. It'd been ages since he'd had the entrance to the stairs charmed to ward off any unwanted guests. "Just a few odds and ends."

"This is all too weird." Backing away, and turning to the service sink, Regina rinsed out the towel she'd been using. "So, what did you need Meme for?"

Having moved away from the glass case that doubled as a counter, Elijah took a moment in front of a stand filled with an assortment of natural lotions, skin care and what he assumed were sachets made from herbs. "This is new."

Not aware her new business partner was stalling, Regina looked over her shoulder to where he was standing. "My friend Ellie makes those. I hope you don't mind."

Taken aback by her comment, Elijah looked back at the small display then back to where Regina fidgeted. "Why in the world would I care?"

"Well you are a partner. I should also tell you, she helps me here . . . a lot. We've been friends since forever, and without her help I wouldn't be able to do this." Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, looking for all the world as though he would take everything from her, Regina took a deep breath and stared at him. "She's become my partner here at the Tea Room, not legally I suppose, but without her I don't think I could've gotten through the last few months."

"I must confess, I am at a loss. How would any of this affect me?" Standing casually, trying his best to understand her concern, Elijah honestly couldn't say why the young woman seemed slightly distressed.

"Mr. Bouchard said if I were try and sell the Tea Room, or if I were to allow another person to run the business, everything would go to you."

"Ahh, yes the clause." He had nearly forgotten the clause, seeing no Dauphine had been willing to give up their home or independence. "It's good you have such a close friend to depend on. As for this -." Indicating the stand with just a slight nod of his head, Elijah smiled softly. "and having such a close friend to help with the day to day of the shop, only reinforces my belief that the Dauphines are natural business women. I have no intention of acquiring the business. As to my business with Imogene, it seems you've been through enough as of late, and we can wait on that for another day."

He waited as several emotions passed across her delicate features. It struck him how alike Regina and her late ancestor Lucille were. With their midnight black hair falling down her back in large fat curls, pale complexion dusted lightly with freckles, and an overall delicacy of her appearance. They both appeared to the outside world exactly what the world wanted woman like her to be, pretty to look upon and meek in temperament. It wasn't just her appearance though that reminded him of Lucille, it was her silent defiance gleaming back at him through her dark blue eyes.

Centuries before he had almost made the mistake of underestimating Lucille, and it nearly cost him everything. Though this time he wasn't faced with a homicidal father bent on wiping his remaining family from the face of the earth, his family was in the path of an oncoming war, and he needed to use every resource at his disposal.

Imogene's death was unfortunate, if not slightly suspicious. Until he knew exactly where the battle lines were drawn, and who the players were, he needed to play his part carefully.


End file.
